


Penance

by Destina



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Early Work, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-01
Updated: 2000-04-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan exacts his own revenge on the galaxy universe after Qui-Gon's death, and even his master's presence in dreams cannot stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

**Author's Note:**

> Written in April 2000; posted to AO3 in October 2015.

I. 

When the darkness burst open inside me, I embraced it with the abandon of a neglected lover. I fused with it, melted into it, became a core of fear and rage which burned more brightly than ordinary evil could withstand. I struck apart my enemy without a second thought, stood and watched him fall, loathing him and his kind, celebrating his death with satisfaction and bitter joy. 

Killing him once was not enough to erase my hatred. 

Slowly, my senses returned to the world beyond my private battle, and I heard the labored, shallow breathing of a man sinking towards death. I ran to kneel beside my teacher, crying out for him, refusing to acknowledge the specter of loss hovering over my heart. I collected Qui-Gon into my arms, a great warrior suddenly shattered into fragments, and laid my open hand against his face. He felt the fierce longing for revenge pouring out of me, saw it clearly like vivid whorls of scarlet and black painted across the surface of my grief, overlaid with blood. I made no effort to hide my emotions from my Master. 

A soft touch to my face, and his dying consciousness exploded into my mind, a furious mix of condemnation and love. He saw the edge I walked without regret, the shadows that whispered of my outrage, and withdrew immediately, having seen enough. All that which had been was obliterated. The shape of what was to come was changed in that moment. 

He knew how I had failed, and he gave me only a moment's comfort, a fleeting impression of love too faint to ease the bruises on my heart. No consolation, no words of affirmation to mark the passion he had freely shared with me. Only an entreaty to train the damned boy, the child whose path was mine to shape as I chose. Perhaps he hoped reason would reassert itself in duty. My heart grew cold with my promise. The touch of his long fingers where his hand rested over mine provided the only warmth I could sense, and too soon, they began to cool. 

All light was extinguished within me as he exhaled his last breath. 

Horror choked me, prevented the screams from tearing their way out, even as they clawed at the back of my throat, washed down with sobs. I was immobile, kneeling over the only person who'd ever valued me, bitterly calling his name without words, reaching out for the spirit which had fled his body. I shook his corpse in desperate fury when I heard no reply. 

When they found us there by the melting pit, I was frozen into a crouched state of bewilderment. Vague voices grazed my ears, but the words did not penetrate to a place of understanding. Only the firm grip of Captain Panaka's hand on my shoulder broke through, and still I would not be moved. They separated us by force, finally, and once begun, I allowed it; I had no will of my own. I saw the Queen's eyes on me, full of the sadness of a thousand deaths, and I looked away, preferring not to know her pain. 

I was taken to a secluded place, a room in the depths of the massive palace, where I could mourn my master away from the curious eyes of the populace. I lay trembling on the bed I'd shared with my love, filled with venom that had no release. I poisoned my own soul that night, reveling in my hate, relishing the caustic taste of havoc. I incessantly relived the moment I struck the Sith Lord down, wishing the moment back so I might kill him more slowly, inflict grievous wounds which would never heal - not unlike my own. The night passed, one second at a time, each moment eternal and unceasing. Near dawn, cocooned in an anguished haze, I succumbed to the exhaustion that follows wrath. 

The first of the dreams wrapped itself around me in those early morning hours, insidious and soft, stealing underneath my defenses with unfamiliar trickery. I did not know I was dreaming, for my mind had not crossed the barrier of acceptance. I was part of an untainted world manufactured out of my fondest memories, where I walked beside my master in contented peace. I marked the shadings of significance that hung between the words, suspended in the ethereal place between madness and forgiveness... 

_I walked through the Temple Gardens with my new master, still basking in the wonder of having been chosen as his Padawan. Qui-Gon turned his head and looked at me with eyes the color of indigo tears. "Why so quiet, Obi-Wan?"_

_"I was reflecting on one of my lessons, Master. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate is the path to the Dark Side." I spoke the words with the rote simplicity of faith._

_Qui-Gon stretched out a hand and stopped my forward motion, and I knew at once he was disappointed. As I had so often in those early days together, and in all the days which followed, I touched his mind with mine and understood his question. "And are you never afraid, Padawan?"_

_"Sometimes, Master," I admitted, unwilling to hide the truth from him. He knew me so well, it seemed, and would know instantly if I deceived him._

_"And are you never angry?"_

_"A Jedi must master his anger, never allow it to dominate his decisions. Or a part of the Dark Side will he be."_

_My master did not smile at my impression of Master Yoda. A cold, creeping sense of wrongness trickled down my spine, and the swirling blue in my master's eyes became the darkness which had claimed me._

_"And tell me, Padawan, will you now heed the teachings I gave my life to illustrate?" Still staring at my master's face, hungry for a glimpse of him, I was sucked backwards out of that place of small comfort. I moved unsteadily through the colored corridors of unbearable need; I resisted returning to the waking world, preferring a dead master to none at all._

I woke, screaming. 

Even then, I had only the vaguest notion of the price I was to pay for my foray into darkness. 

II. 

Days merged into nights, and back again, meaningless and alike, distinguished only by the singular events which defined them. A day to take the Trials, to find them simple compared to the duel being waged among my emotions; to have the rank of Knight conferred upon me, and receive my thousandth lecture from Master Yoda. A day to stand beside my Master's funeral pyre and see him consigned to the inferno, while I made an implied promise to the boy, and felt the words falling flat within sorrow. Yet another day to dress Anakin as my Padawan, to cut his hair and impatiently weave together a braid at the side of his head, to hear his incessant chatter until I thought I would strangle him. 

And still one more day, a day to stand before Master Windu as he asked me thoughtful, musing questions, driving toward a point which apparently was not for me to comprehend. 

"Are you rested, Obi-Wan?" He used my name familiarly; he had known me since the day I entered the Academy, and could take such liberties with formality. 

"I am well enough, Master Windu." To my own ears, my voice sounded overly strong, biting. I chafed under the necessity of this interview, wondering why I'd been summoned. 

Windu looked at me curiously, catching wisps of my impatience. He allowed a silence to fall between us, watching as my agitation grew in the absence of conversation, and let the emotion fester. Like a skilled surgeon, he cut straight to the heart of the issue. "Qui-Gon's death is a tragedy for all of us, but you loved him most of all." A pause, then gently: "Didn't you, Obi-Wan?" 

Defiantly, I raised my head. "It is so, Master Windu. We were lovers. I'll not apologize for it now." 

"Did I ask for apologies?" His voice was suddenly sharp. 

"No, but-" 

"That will do, young Jedi." He continued to scrutinize me with an expression I found difficult to interpret. 

I suppose I should have understood the implied rebuke for what it was; not an accusation of wrongdoing, but gentle chiding for allowing my love to overrun my mastery of my emotions. I refused to make sense of it. I clenched my jaws together and waited. 

"Have you seen your master since his death, Obi-Wan?" The question was asked casually, as though we were discussing the price of vegetables in the market. 

"Have I-" I began incredulously, then broke off. I took a deep breath and reached deep within myself for calm. "My master is dead." 

"Have you seen him?" Windu's smooth voice was insistent. "Or heard him speaking to you?" 

My stomach dropped as the world slid sideways underneath me, taking away the foundations of truth. All the legends of Jedi Masters becoming one with the Force, returning to guide the living, all the old stories couldn't possibly be true...it couldn't be... 

I found myself guided to a chair by Master Windu, who seemed mildly alarmed by the cold sweat on my body. "I take it you've grasped the reason for my questions," he said quietly. 

I nodded. Finding my voice proved difficult. Finding the words, more difficult still. "In a dream," I managed, hearing my voice crack. "Only once." 

"It may not have been your master truly speaking," Windu said, cautioning me. "The mind sometimes protects itself from grief by creating mirages. What did this dream entail?" 

"I was...we were in the gardens at the Temple, just after I turned thirteen...and..." I felt as though a hand had closed around my throat, preventing me from breathing. "Qui-Gon asked if I had ever been afraid, ever been angry...and he asked when I would learn the lessons he died...for..." My voice trailed off into nothingness, squeezed out by the lack of air in my lungs, and I put my hand up to wipe my face. 

I felt Master Windu reaching out with the living Force, trying to uncover the meaning of the words my master had spoken, looking for something to indicate that Qui-Gon had walked inside my mind. It felt strange to have a Jedi Master performing the same manipulations within me that I'd tried a hundred times or more with strangers. At last, he fixed me with that same probing gaze, and said, "I do not know if it was your master, Obi-Wan. I do, however, believe that he will try to guide you, in some fashion." His expression softened. "As my master returned to guide me." 

"So it's true," I said faintly, not daring to allow my heart to take the leap of belief until I was sure. "The legends are true." 

"Yes, to an extent. You've no doubt heard it whispered in the Temple all your life. Some Jedi Masters become one with the Force, and they are able to appear...in some form...to those closest to them. Qui-Gon was certainly powerful enough to have made this transition. The Council expected something a bit more concrete as proof, however." 

I opened my mouth to ask a thousand questions, but was struck dumb with the next thought that passed through my mind. I failed him, and he will not appear.

"You fear his anger." As if he'd plucked the thought out of thin air, Master Windu confronted me. 

"No, I..." I struggled to sort out the impressions cascading through me, confusion overriding everything. "Not his anger. I was less than he expected." My words were halting, every shameful syllable seemingly ripped from me. "I gave in to my hate." Master Windu said nothing, and I realized he was waiting for me to finish. The facts were open sores on my integrity, but I probed them, bringing forth the pain and doubt anew. "I hate, Master." Only a whisper, then, for the emotion was magnified by the sound of the words. "I hate." 

Quietly, Master Windu centered me. "It is not your hate which concerns me, Obi-Wan. It is your reluctance to release it. You cling to it like a shield, one you think will protect you against your master's disappointment, against the loss you feel. It will not." 

"I know, Master." Barely audible, I acknowledged the wisdom he shared with me. "I also know Qui-Gon. I feel an emptiness...he is not with me." As I said the words, the certainty clicked into place. 

I failed him, and he will not appear.

"Perhaps you are wrong," Master Windu suggested. "Open your heart to him, to the possibility that he is with you, Obi-Wan, and surrender your hate." 

I raised my face to his then, aware of what was burning in my eyes, not caring. "Hate is all I have left," I said, watching the effects of my honesty as Windu retreated a step, folding his arms into his cloak. 

"That is unfortunate," he said. "And it will have repercussions, for you and for your padawan. You cannot be allowed to train the boy until you have mastered the darkness within you." 

Ah, yes -- the boy. Anakin held no special place in my heart. I had promised to train him. Not to love him, not to open my heart, not to give anything of myself. 

At that moment, I entered into a covenant with my own demons. If Qui-Gon would not return to show his love for me, I would give only what was required to the boy. Nothing more. I would never be the one to deprive the boy of something he'd grown accustomed to, snatching away sunlight and leaving him in shadow. My anger at my master for deserting me would be assuaged by my refusal to give of myself to the boy he'd chosen over me. Not revenge...reprisal. 

Master Windu was speaking, and I was far away, locked away behind a wall of devious intent. I snapped back when I heard him calling my name. "Obi-Wan!" 

"My apologies, Master." The change in my tone caused an expression of mild surprise to flicker across his features. 

"As I was saying, Obi-Wan, meditate on these things until you have resolved the conflict for yourself. Return to Coruscant when you are ready to face the Council and take Anakin as your padawan learner. Perhaps you will have something further to share with the Council at that time." I knew he hoped I would be able to tell them I had seen my master, shared with and learned from him. 

"Thank you, Master," I said, bowing gracefully. I had been given a momentary reprieve from all things worldly. I would not fill that space with meditation. Too much room for errant grief to slip inside, smothering me. Anger and betrayal were cleaner, more easily relegated to the corners of awareness, not so difficult to comprehend. I would not grieve. Not yet. 

I saw Anakin off on the transport with Windu, as duty demanded, and returned to my quarters to sleep. Some tiny part of me was nagging, urging me to hurry, to begin a nocturnal search for my master. I felt it tickling me, wondered if it was the Force urging me to action. As I threw off my clothing and climbed onto the top sheet, I knew this night would be like thousands to come - unending, and resonating with an aching, unfulfilled need which radiated from my heart to my loins. Unshed tears stung behind my closed eyes. 

The second of the dreams unfolded gently inside me on that night, and I welcomed it with eager awareness, wishing for a resolution that would not materialize... 

_Like crystals blossoming in a sterile field, my longing made staccato patter against tranquil imagining, and I found myself enfolded in my Master's arms, wrapped securely in a mantle of possession._

_"Master?" I labored to escape the embrace, but made no progress. Delicious sensations interrupted my analytical patterns, soothing me, taking away my fear._

_"Did you so easily doubt me, my love?" The voice was familiar, bone to my flesh, the steel which should have been the support underneath the framework of the man I had become._

_"Never, Master." The response was immediate, fervent, lonely. I felt his lips on my neck, moving slowly, tracing patterns there with excruciating tenderness. My heart cracked in two at the first touch of skin to skin, and I strained to see his face, but he held me in place._

_"Obi-Wan, you have started down a dangerous path. There will be nothing but regret for you if you continue." I was startled to hear my master address the agenda I kept hidden, the decision I'd reached after so little deliberation._

_"He will be the end of the Jedi, Master." The words flowed from a place of absolute reality, Force-driven, stated without emotion._

_"Perhaps. Even more reason why you should devote yourself to his training. He must become a Jedi, Padawan. And you must help him."_

_"I will do my duty," I said defensively._

_Spectral arms tightened around me. "Obi-Wan." There was incisive sadness in the deep tones of the rich voice I knew so well. He was disappointed in me, and rightly so. I felt his body shift against mine, as though he were restless. How can a ghost be restless? "There will be a turning point. If you fail to make the correct choice, I cannot be beside you." For the briefest span of time imaginable, I understood the hell he would endure if he could not be with me, a mirror of my own hopelessness. "All that will be left is the faint indulgence of dreams, Obi-Wan, and that is nothing at all compared to what we might experience together."_

_"Master..." I felt him slipping away, the hard muscled body no longer pressed against me, drifting backward..._

_"Peace over anger...honor over hate...strength over fear..." Qui-Gon reinforced the teachings, but I felt the convulsive clutch of recklessness surging through me..._

"Master!" 

I woke, breathless, tears coursing down my face, and flung myself over onto the pillow, my entire body heaving with the force of the suffering inside my soul. 

III.

At times, when the wind scours the walls of my home, it is like a living creature, screaming its frustration. I sit in the dark and listen to its frenzied protests, preferring to be alone with my thoughts. Light only amplifies his absence, illuminating the places where he should be. Tonight, there is only hot, still air, and the quiet of vast emptiness, stretching out for many miles in every direction away from this place I chose to hide myself. 

Something shimmers just beyond the scope of perception; a subtle shift has taken place in the Force, a shift I've awaited many years. I once feared it would come too late. Now I believe the grown son of boy I wronged may help me set things back as they should be. 

Hindsight lends a perfect clarity to situations that seemed muddled and murky when I stood in the midst of them. The brashness of youth gives way to wisdom, but not before lessons are learned with a great deal of regret. One cannot tell the younger self he is a fool when time stands inconveniently between the two ends of a life. 

I meditated every day after the second dream, seeking solutions, but there were no further dreams to guide me. I often knelt for hours in front of the gigantic windows in Amidala's palace, listening to the cascading of the waterfalls below, my mind blank instead of focused. In those moments, I learned how to conceal, to shift, to reflect instead of absorb. I poured all the skill Qui-Gon had taught me toward the wrong goal, further corroding my principles. On the eleventh day, I rose from my knees and walked directly onto the path that would lead to the annihilation of the Jedi. 

To say the Council was skeptical would be to vastly underestimate their caution. Master Yoda's eyes bored into me, but I was unfazed. I waited to hear their questions, felt the combined power of their abilities beating at my mind like the wings of a trapped bird. 

"Resolved your hate, have you?" Yoda queried. 

"Yes, Master Yoda." That much was true, at least. I no longer felt the violent urge to destroy which had dogged me. He nodded, satisfied. 

"And your padawan. Train him, you shall, but not while anger rules you." 

"I will not give into my anger, Master. I am in control of my emotions." That, also, was true. 

Silence, as the Council members exchanged looks, and perhaps thoughts as well. It was suspected that they communicated frequently without words, but no one outside that circle was privy to such information. They sensed something, but could not place it. There was no deception in me, nothing for them to measure my honesty against. 

"Bring in the boy," Master Windu said at last. I felt a surge of expectation within me, crushed it down, and stood motionless. An echo seemed to float nebulously around me... _there will be a turning point...and I squashed it ruthlessly._

I was aware of him before he entered the Council chamber. I'd said it, and meant it: he was dangerous, and I would not waver from that opinion. I would not contribute to the possibilities by placing myself in a position to be too important to him. He walked in, glancing hopefully up at me, looking entirely serious and small, and took his place by my side. I reached out and guided him into position in front of me, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"I take Anakin to be my padawan learner," I said in a voice which rang from one end of that place to the other, strong and alive, as my master's had been when he said the same words, for vastly different reasons. Interesting how faith and belief can so quickly become cold indifference. My hand immediately dropped away. I sensed his curiosity, and his excitement. 

"Very well, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Find new quarters for yourself and your padawan. We will have an assignment for you, once you have had a few days to adjust to this new relationship." I bowed to Master Windu, noticing Anakin as he did the same, and walked from the chamber, not caring if my padawan kept pace with me. 

"Master?" Hearing him call me that title brought me up short. Master. I turned and looked at him. "Thank you, sir. I wasn't sure you meant it when you said I'd be a Jedi." 

I searched my own heart, and was satisfied. Nothing existed there. Only a faint chill, an icy remnant of the love I held for my master, which would never fade. It would be that way always when I looked at Anakin - a nothingness of the soul, a vacancy where caring should have been, a hole which would never be filled. 

Would that I had been wise enough to realize this was the very thing which would help to turn the boy to the Dark Side. There was no anchor for him, no tethers to bind him, no love, no emotion. 

I looked at the boy, and the words fell smoothly. "Of course you will be a Jedi, Padawan." But do not come too close to me, for I will not accept you in my heart. "Come. We will need to find new rooms for the two of us to occupy." So saying, I set off with him at my side, where he would remain until the fateful moment he became a student of the Sith. 

The third dream came that night, and was the last one to stand apart from all those which would follow it in the downward spiral. They began to blend into a melancholy sameness after that night, but the images of the third dream would burn in my blood every waking moment thereafter... 

_"Obi-Wan." The sound of my name, spoken by my beloved, should have made me turn eagerly. Instead, I stood quietly, looking out on the exaggerated colors of a sunset over Coruscant, dully aware for the first time that this was all a dream, would always be a dream, could never be real. The voice deepened, rough with emotion. "Obi-Wan." Hands closed on my shoulders, and he turned me to face him. For the first time, he looked as I remembered him, streaks of gray silvering his fine brown hair, blue eyes which looked upon me with such infinite compassion, strong arms, strong body - whole, untouched, mine._

_"This is the price to be paid, is it not?" I asked, strangely calm, caught in the surreal quality of serenity which seemed to flow over me. "I cannot make myself love him, Master. I will not. I cannot be to him what you are to me..."_

_"Hush," my master said, his tone that of a man who expects no argument, will accept none. "If this is all there is to be, then there will be no looking back, Obi-Wan. What you have done, is done. Move forward with me."_

_"I am dead inside, Master." My voice was hoarse, as I raised my eyes to his, drowning in the chasm of darkness I opened with my own hands. "There is nothing else for me in this life."_

_"You are wrong, Obi-Wan." His hands were moving already, sweeping away my clothing with little effort, shedding his own as well. His mouth covered mine, ending the dangerous deprivation I'd felt every moment since he died. I drew in a shuddering breath as ecstasy closed its hold on me, while his lips parted mine sensually, seeking my surrender. I felt his hands on my throat, thumbs stroking; his palms rested against the curve of my neck, pulling me deeper, joining me to him. My head fell back as his lips wandered away from mine, traveling to my ear. He whispered there, words that ricocheted through my soul. "There will be yet another chance to set things right, to bring balance. You must be strong until that day comes, my love."_

_I touched him then, expecting him to fade beneath my fingers, but he was as real as imagining could make him, and I was utterly lost in my joy. I faltered for a moment, confronted with this unexpected gift, but was swept away again by his hands worshipping me, lifting me, lowering me. My eyes became mirrors of his, drawn by the spectrum of blue reflected there as he watched my face, each color change denoting a deepening emotion. Foremost among them was desire, which shone from him like the light of the sun as it sinks into the sea._

_Everything dark was stripped away under the pressure of his body against mine. I was blinded by the wonder of it, stunned into immobility as he closed his mouth around my cock, the feeling of it more powerful than any dream should be. I was totally enclosed in rapturous bliss, as he moved on me, tongue seducing me easily with tiny strokes, gentling me before he descended again and smashed apart my unfulfilled longing. I was his. As I came apart, undone and tangled in the heat of my own desire, he was inside me, around me, filling me, the missing piece of me, and he belonged to me..._

Time erodes behind me, like the soft sand beneath my feet, shifting unsteadily, burning a bright path through memory. There can be no relief for the ache pressing at my heart, even after so many years without him. I grow weary of this arid world, of a universe which has no need of my kind any longer, and I retreat to the controlled, dark refuge of sleep. Pain ceases to resonate so sharply there. In the quiet of dreams, I feel his presence with me, hear the voice which speaks only to me. He whispers my name, and a flood of joyful desire stains a soul bleached by loneliness. I am never free of it. 

The life of a Dark Lord, taken by my hand, and another to take his place because of my arrogance. Penance. 

Yet another boy, eyes bright with hope, a mirror of my own youth before my heart was stripped away. Redemption. 

And once I am redeemed, my master will haunt my dreams no longer.


End file.
